


Assassin's Creed: Vulture's Cowl

by GreyHood99



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyHood99/pseuds/GreyHood99
Summary: Hector Cortes, aka Templar Enforcer Black Shadow, had hoped to escape the element of the criminal underworld he was born into. From  dangerous hit-man, to an Assassin of the Mexican Brotherhood, to a Templar Agent of Abstergo Industries. Hector had hoped he had seen the worst.After his mission to retrieve both the Illusion Ring ,and a missing Templar Agent, goes wrong; Hector is forced to work back in the criminal element. Here, he learns of an ex assassin leading a bloody and brutal gang war with the Illinois assassins, for control of the city. Having been cut off from his allies, and the fear there may be a traitor in Abstergo, Hector is forced into the war zone.Striking a deal with the ex assassin, Axel Shields, Cortes is forced to try and unite the street gangs against the assassins.But, who is the traitor? Where is the missing Templar agent? Where is the Illusion Ring, and why do both sides seek to claim it?





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey Hector,” he said. “Huh?” Hector looked over at the Blonde haired russian, Daniel Cross. “Do you ever feel, like you’re truly a part of the Order?” Daniel turned to look at Hector, the hispanic noticed how the russian was slightly trembling. Hector had noticed his friend was getting more unstable from the time he was outside the animi program the Templars kept modifying and developing. Cross could see his ancestor’s memories, but they were random and painful. Cross was constantly sweating and shaking. Everyone had seemed to start avoiding the ex assassin, everyone except for Warren Vidic and Hector. But, even then, Vidic was struggling to help Daniel. Cross was like a son to Vidic, the son he could never have. Hector smiled, trying to thinking of better times. Where Daniel was doing emotionally better. “Well, Cross, you guys did get me out of Mexico. Didn’t you? Where I’m from, that’s the start of a familia, family.” “Yeah,” Daniel Cross replied, his grey eyes were losing it’s glow. “But, do you feel Abstergo will really have a place for ex assassins like us? Lost, and broken toys like us?” “I, I don’t know, but it’s better than the assassins right?” Hector looked at Daniel with hope, he really hoped Vidic had a cure. Surely Vidic would find a way to help him, he was always there for the two of them.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Wham! Hector’s fist slammed on the alarm clock in front of him. Sweat drenched his chest as he sat upright. He buried his face in his hands. Five years, five years and it wasn’t over. Five years, since Daniel Cross died, and Hector still wasn’t over it. The hispanic had looked up to the russian, he was there to drag him out of the void that had nearly consumed the man in Mexico. 

He still remembers Daniel’s dry laugh, his horrible nightmares and visions in his time outside the animus, he remembers seeing his father figure at his worst times. He remembers Daniel smiling, he remembers the time spent in the bar, he remembers all the times they got out alive together, hunting the Assassin Terrorists. Truth was, Daniel was more than someone to look up to, he was a brother. 

To this day, Hector still wears Daniel’s black and yellow hoodie. It hangs in a glass case in Hector’s small bought apartment. Hector stands up, the clock reads 6:30. His duties for abstergo starts in two hours, he already knew what he would be doing today. First, a meeting with Melanie Lemay over the details of the Nikolai Orelov Project. Daniel’s blood had been sampled for abstergo in their upcoming genetic memory sequencing for Helix. Helix was a special software update to the animi software. Hector was in charge of running through the ancestor’s memories and finding footage.

Hector got up, and opened the window. The humid air blew into his face, sending his straight hair sticking in different directions. The Philadelphia Pennsylvania spring air was moist and warm, flowers were bloomed. Hector took now not of it though, and went back inside. He rubbed his eyes, tired from all the research he had been doing lately. 

Hector’s had been paying off well for the Templars though, it had helped the Templars find many precursor sites before the assassins did. Recently, the Templars had discovered the existence of a precursor artifact called the Illusion Ring. However, that was found when Hector had went through the later memories of Connor Kenway and his founded brotherhood. It was assumed that when he found the ring near the end of his career as mentor, his pupils hide the artifact in the Illinois territory. Eventually, that territory became the State of Illinois in 1818. 

Abstergo had sent a Templar Enforcer to find the artifact, as the assassins were already starting the search, having hacked and got a copy of the genetic memory file. Hector was disappointed, all that work, and it ended up in enemy hands. Could it be, that a mole was among them? Hector wondered if he would ever know. ‘Huh, that Enforcer Dark Knight had been sent for the longest, wonder when we’ll hear back from him,’ he thought.

Hector looked into the bathroom mirror, he had dark circles under his eyes. He felt better after a quick shower, a towel wrapped around his curvy waist. He combed his hair, and dried off. He then slipped on some boxers, black jeans, a brown leather belt, a grey t-shirt, a black baseball cap, and his old friend’s hoodie. He slide on his templar ring on his ring finger. He looked at himself in the mirror, and thought he saw Daniel Cross himself smile behind him in the mirror. Hector struggled to force himself to smile.

By 8:00, he had his breakfast. He didn’t eat much anyway. A simple beef and cheese bagel, and a dark roast coffee. No cream, two sugars. He liked his coffee bland and black. 

Melanie Lemay, his boss, walked up to him. ‘Chippy as ever,’ he noted. “Hey, Hector!” She smiled and beamed. She waved. Hector forced himself to smile, it looked forced and painful. Melanie smiled, at least he tried. Hector didn’t want to be rude. “I miss him too, just like Oliver.” She noted. “Although, you lived with the wounds for much longer, I lost Oliver for two years. You’ve been without Cross for five years.” Hector looked down at the carpet, wishing she would drop the subject. It wasn’t just missing the Ex assassin’s guidance and partnership, it was the fact he wondered if he could rise out of shadow and be an independent man. Make the russian truly proud. Melanie put a hand on his shoulder, “Hang in there, were in this together.” Hector looked back at her, over his shoulder. “Teamwork!” Melanie beamed. Hector managed a laugh. “I’ll try.” He said. 

Right after Hector logged into his server, he was stopped by the front desk assistant. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Hm?” He questioned. “Hi!” she smiled and waved. “Mr. Berg would like you in his office for a quick moment. He says it’s about your research.” “Okay,” Hector was puzzled, “I’ll be right there.” Mr. Berg? Juhani Otso Berg, part of the Templar’s Inner Sanctum right? ‘Wonder what the Assassin Hunter wants?’ Hector wondered. Berg had quite a reputation of being intimidating, and all about business.

Hector felt small, walking up the elevator, going to see Otso Berg. He was so young when he first walked into Abstergo, despite the eight years he’d been working for Abstergo, he still felt like the misguided young adult when Daniel Cross brought him here. Out of a familiar country, and into a new world, and now working for his former enemies, Hector was lost and confused. Daniel had been there to guide him before, but he was now six feet under. All thanks to that damned assassin, Desmond Miles. If Hector would have had it his way, he would have stabbed the monster so many times with his own hidden blade. Daniel didn’t even stand a chance, the monster didn’t even play a fair fight. Desmond used the mythical Apple of Eden to turn Cross’s mental psyche against itself, he was so vulnerable. And Desmond, he prayed on that vulnerability, a true monster. It wasn’t just Daniel he took from the hispanic, a bullet was placed in Warren Vidic’s skull. Hector had been robbed, of both a father and a brother. 

Hector walked into Berg’s office. The Grey-haired Master Templar looked up from his computer monitor, he showed no emotion. “Take a seat.” He said coolly and robotic. It felt more like an order, or a command, than an invitation. But, Hector was used to it by now.


	2. Chapter 2

“Take a seat,” Otso Berg commanded. It felt like an order, rather than an invitation. Hector sat down, but not choosing to relax or lower his guard or posture. Clearly, Otso was all about business only. This after all, was the same Otso Berg who refused to go to employee social gatherings unless it was business related or mandatory. Hector guessed it was either the pressure of being a father and templar, or simply that Berg had something stuck between his cheeks. Otso seemingly marched to the small conference table in the room, hands behind his back, like a military officer. ‘Well, he was once a mercenary,’ Hector thought.

Otso took a seat, the chair scraped against the carpeting. Hector strained himself from looking around the room, the room was decorated in historical artwork and medieval weapons in glass display cases. Otso sat back in his chair, in a relaxed, yet professional manner. ‘Another Assassin target?’ Hector wondered.

“Ms. Lemay has been keeping me informed of your progress with the Orelov family line. I think your old colleague, Mr. Cross, would have been pleased.” Otso Berg starred Hector down, as if peering into his own soul. Berg’s stare wasn’t enough to phase Hector though, the man had hunted countless numbers of assassins, militia, and drug cartels; he knew what true danger was. ‘Small talk…’ Hector thought. “However,” Berg placed his hands down on the table, “I need your attention elsewhere for the moment, temporarily. There’s been, a slight alteration.” Hector tipped his head to one side. Berg placed a remote on the table, and picked it up and pressed the button. The Curtains in the room covered the glass windows of his oval shaped office, the room darkened. Then, red electrical lights illuminated the room. They weren’t like emergency lights, they felt more like something out of a game show. ‘Looks like something out of Tron,’ Hector thought.

Otso activated a projector on the screen, it showed the image of a man with a black coat, and a face mask with a cross on it. Berg turned his chair from the screen to face Hector. “Four months ago, we used your findings on the Illusion Ring to track it to Chicago. We sent our Templar Enforcer Dark Knight to find it.” ‘And?’ Hector thought impatiently, he’d much rather go and handle his research. “Our spies network had found an increased presence of the assassins in local gangs in the city, and we’ve lost contact with out agent for almost two months.” Hector nodded, he knew where this was going. “I figured, with your past in dealing with the Criminal realm, that it would be best to handle what our agent could not.” “I understand, Master Berg.” Hector replied robotically, it’s always business. “Your orders, Black Shadow, are to recover the Illusion Ring, and find the whereabouts of agent Dark Knight. Any questions?” “How soon do I leave, Master Berg?” “You head out the end of this week, you will stay at the safehouse in the city. For the time being, you are to halt your research on the Orelov ancestry, and go back into Connor Kenway’s memories. The Order needs that Ring. You’ll find it for the Order, and you will not fail.” Berg gave Hector a long and piercing look. “You’re dismissed.” Hector turns off the projector, and the blinds shifted back to normal. The light of the outside entered the room, Otso got up from his chair, not interested in spending another second talking. The Master Templar had his own assignments.

Hector returned to his cubicle, and slouched in his chair. ‘Funny, I get the crappy cubicle, and everyone else higher up gets their own private office.’ Hector logs into his animus station, he logs into Connor Kenway’s files, where he even learned that they’re maybe the possibility of the existence of the Illusion Ring. Hector skips certain animations he’s already been through. He’s not in the mood to play as an assassin and kill templars, he wants something else. Bam, he finds it. It’s one of the final monologues from Mentor Connor. It’s after the War of 1812. Connor’s memories are fragmented, ever since the virus from file Shay Patrick Cormac was released, certain memories were still being restored. However, Hector didn’t think it was just the virus. One, who on earth planted the virus to begin with? Hector watches as Connor oversees a burial of a chest, his assassins burying it in the Illinois territory.

Finally, Hector gets the monologue he wants. Connor speaks. “It’s after all the damage has been done, that I know the path we must take. Again, it will not be an easy path, but we can all have hope.” Hector finds humor in that, hope had never gotten the ex assassin anywhere in life. “I feel as if I’ve seen the future of our fate, I must bury and hide any trace of our existence, time draws near. Our failures to handle the rise of the American Templars has hindered us, we still stand, licking our wounds. I know realize what the wise man meant by taking care you don’t destroy the world, in my attempt to save it. I realize this lesson, too late. Connor is shown taking a last look at a ring on his finger, it glows and shows a ragged and old figure. Hector identifies this figure, per DNA scrubbing and calibration of the animus station, as a future incarnation of Connor himself. It makes sense, that the ring has the power of foresight and foreshadow. It’s clear to Hector why the Templars want it, they must ensure and secure a victory. They need to ensure their perfect world. Hector almost feels pity for the Native American Assassin, him hurrying his followers to finish the burial, before a patrol of American frontier soldiers patrol and attack. Almost sorry.

The memory ends, it is the last memory file available for Connor. Hector never understood why this was the case, many of the new memory files failed to contain all the genetic memories of their subjects. No one knows the true and complete fate of Arno Dorian, Shay Cormac, Connor Kenway, Aveline, Shao Jun, and many others. Desmond Miles’s body had many DNA samples to synchronize, so why were certain memories missing. With Daniel Cross, he got the complete memory of Nikolai Orelov., all his life up to his death. Yet, Desmond’s case was somehow supposed to be different? Unlikely. Sure, some memories were complete, like Adewale, Altair, Edward Kenway, Ezio Auditore, and even Haytham Kenway, but what about everyone else? ‘No answers, but a big hole.’ Hector thought.

Hector looked up at the clock, it was already lunch hour. Of course, none of the man’s coworkers in the nearby cubicles had asked to go with him for lunch. Hector doubted they even knew his name. Just Melaine, and Otso Berg. Melanie was still in her office, but she was answering a call, she never took a break. ‘That’s not normal,’ Hector thought, walking past her office. He wasn’t going to sulk his lunch hour away, he was going to head home. Wait for instructions from Otso about his mission. Berg himself was gone as well, needing to go check up on his daughter. Hector felt sorry for the kid, would she be forced to grow up in this unhealthy and unstable environment? Where everyone you cared about could be dead an instant, and there would be nothing you could do about it.  
Hector sulked home, he was already done with his work anyway. He always did his research ahead of time, even at home. It was comforting to him, just like it had once calmed Daniel.

It was late at night, a few hours after dinner, when Hector got the call. His phone buzzed at the table near his bed. It was a bit after eight at night, Hector looked up the caller id, it was Otso.  
“Master Berg?” Hector answered. “Agent Black Shadow, your mission is to intercept and find the Illusion Ring and our lost Templar Agent Dark Knight.” It sounded like a recorded message, so robotic, Otso was known for being all business and cold. His deep voice but shivers in the backs of his enemies and allies alike. “Kill anyone that stands in your way, the local gangs, private investigators of the law, and assassins. Bring the Ring to our Order, templar. Secure that Ring, or die trying. Do not fail. Your plane leaves at 10:00 am tomorrow, sharp. Bring only what you need. Your contact will take you to a safe house, where you will operate and conduct your investigation. Secrecy is not optional, but mandatory. Black Cross, signing off.” The phone call ended. Hector stared up at the ceiling, he got up and started packing his clothes and necessities.

Hector grabbed his only large suitcase, he had little possessions. Two weeks’ worth of clothes, two blend in with the populace. Toiletries, soap, simple things. Hector was done packing in less than an hour. He truly didn’t have much. He sat back down on the couch in his living room, the air conditioning blowing in a slight breeze. Despite the hot climate of Mexico, Hector was well adjusted to the cold climates of Pennsylvania and that of the States. He pulled something out of his baseball cap, he needed to do his original ritual. He had stopped for a while, but all pain seems to always come back to haunt. Hector looks at the photo of him and the blonde russian standing next to him, they're at the pub.

Hector slips back the photo back in his cap, and walked toward the fireplace. It was old and needed dusting, he pulled one of the candle holders, it bended. And the fireplace swiveled to reveal a secret passage. A long hallway revealed what looked like a dance room. A spherical ball hung on the ceiling, like a disco ball. And there was a stage that looked like a boxing arena in the center of the wide and spacious room. The hispanic templar hit a button on a console on the wall. The crystal ball on the ceiling glowed an aqua blue. A computer voice beeped to life, “DNA sample recognized. Welcome, Master Cortes.” “Computer,” Hector commanded, “Activate Animi training program. Synchronize Subject 17.” “Acknowledged, synchronizing.” The blue lights filled the entire room, nothing could be seen.

The lights flickered off. Hector took in his surroundings. Hector pulled his hoodie up, the yellow and black hoodie contrasting the hispanic jet black hair. He was in a room he had seen multiple times. The fourth floor, of the Abstergo Facility in Rome. The Animi server room. No guards were around, as usual. Hector went up the stairs, into a room where only a hooded man stood. He had a black and red sling bag on his back, he wore blue tight jeans, and white and red hoodie. He had a lone hidden blade on his left wrist, a pocket knife in his right hand. An eagle’s nest tattoo was along the man’s left arm. The figure slowly spun around to face Hector. “You think you are something, special huh?” Hector said. The figure said nothing, his expression blank and hidden under the white hoodie, with red trim. “You murdered a great deal of my kind. Stillman, Cross, Vidic, you slaughtered them like animals, you deserve no better.” The figure stood still, motionless, like it lacked substance. “It’s been awhile since I last played with you, since we last danced. Are you still as weak as the last time I killed you?” Hector scoffed. “You got lucky, killing Stillman. You would have never have known, but you got lucky. With Cross, you got lucky. The apple was your only saving grace, one lucky hit. Vidic, didn’t even have the guts to kill him yourself, using that damned Apple of Eden to save you. Funny, you assassins say you listen to your victim's dying words. Yet, you just left those three in a pool of blood, dying. I saw the footage of your own memories. Their look of horror, their look of shock. For guardians of the people, I find your lack of mercy to be quite hypocritical.” The Figure finally removed his hood. Hector took in the face of his target. A rough and rectangular face, a scar along his lips, dark eyes like that of a deer. Hector was gonna hunt and slaughter this deer, just like it slaughtered them all. “So, tell me, Desmond Miles,” Hector boomed as he pulled back his hood, “Will it be dumb luck and cowardice that saves you today? Or will it be skill?” The figure known as Desmond flicked his wrist, a blade sprouted from the thin and ragged wrist gauntlet.

Hector threw his gun to the side, he wanted to get his hands dirty. Desmond swiped at the templar with his pocket knife. Hector dodged and weaved, with little effort or emotion. His eyes were trained at the assassin, his prey. Desmond thrusted his hidden blade, aiming for the templar’s neck. Hector strafed out of the way, and grabbed Desmond's left arm, and twisted it. “Ah!” Desmond screamed. Hector socked Desmond in the face, a straight jab that hit home. Desmond recovered, and he swiped and thrusted at the ex assassin. Hector grabbed Desmond, lifting him up, and throwing him over the shoulder and on the ground. “You’ve killed before, surely you can do better than that.” Desmond swiped with his knife, but the blow was missed. The assassin swung his arm in a straight and vertical swipe, but Hector grabbed the hilt of Desmond’s knife and grappled him for control of the fight. Hector wrestled the knife out of Desmond’s hand. The assassin’s knife clang to the ground. Desmond turned to his only weapon left, his hidden blade. But the assassin had to wait for the right moment. Hector was unarmed, but it was as he wanted it. Bam! Hector clocked Desmond with an uppercut. Blood flew from Desmond’s mouth, there was a loud “crack!” Desmond clutched his cheek, but he quickly recovered. His hands balled into fists. Hector’s eyes darkened, his prey was starting to weaken. It was time to end it.

Desmond grabbed Hector’s wrists, and kicked him down. Hector hit the floor with a thud, and Desmond moved in like a leering crow to devour his prey. Desmond triggered his blade, and prepared to stab the ex assassin’s neck. At the second Desmond reached for the ex assassin’s neck, Hector kicked him hard, and flung him over. Desmond landed on his head with a loud thump. “Ugh,” Desmond moaned. He felt himself get turned over. “So, this is it then. In truth, you're nothing special, just a child in an assassin’s clothing. A coward. Not all cowards survive, ask my mentor.” Desmond felt his oxygen slowly cut off. Desmond looked up to see Hector with his hands on the assassin’s throat. Suddenly, he feels a sharp pain in his neck. Shink! Something pierces Desmond’s throat. The Assassin is horrified to see blood gush from his neck. “Guess, there really is nothing special about you, assassin. I will rise from their shadows. The shadows of their graves.” Desmond clutched his neck, choking on air. “Requiscat in Pace, Assassin” Hector walks away from his prey. But, he turns, and watches Desmond bleed out in a pool of blood. Hector watches Desmond, and the room around him, grow in a blue light, and suddenly glitch away. He’s back in the room, the secret room in his apartment. “Subject 17, assassinated. Sequence complete.” The Computer announces. “This memory has been completed One thousand, seven hundred and fifty times. New time has been recorded. Total time recorded, 5 minutes.” Five minutes, it had taken now five minutes to slay the man who ruined his life as he knew it. Every Night, Hector triggered this training exercise, his hope to move on, it still didn’t quench the hispanic’s thirst for vengeance.

Hector left the room, the door slowly closed. He needed to stay up, he now had too much adrenaline. Hector looked at the clock, it was an hour before midnight. Might as well stay up the night, not like the hispanic slept much anyway. After all, he could sleep on the plane.


End file.
